


When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

by a_posteriori (stultiloquent)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Nuns, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stultiloquent/pseuds/a_posteriori
Summary: After spending a year on the road, Sister Grayson returns to Roman's church in Gotham.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roman Sionis
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30
Collections: Dick Grayson Rare Pair Challenge





	When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meaninglessblah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/gifts).



> This whole thing started from a random conversation I had with meaninglessblah, a what-if AU where Dick and Jason are nuns who do assassin work for priest!Roman. The assassin work kind of took a backseat once I started writing though.
> 
> Massive thank you to [meaninglessblah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah) for the beta and brainstorming support and [3dnygma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3dnygma/) for additional fact-checking. Without their help I wouldn't have felt comfortable publishing this in case of unchecked inaccuracies to the Catholic experience.
> 
> **PLEASE HEED THE TAGS AND THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ ON.**  
>  This is without a doubt the darkest piece I've ever written. It leans into a character pov with an unhealthy self-image and cult-like mentality. Other potentially upsetting themes include emotional manipulation, abuse of power and trust, implied grooming of multiple minors, desecration of sacred grounds and objects, etc. I drew inspiration from The Devil All the Time while developing priest!Roman's character, so consider this fic up there in terms of disturbing content.
> 
> This fic was written as an exploration of Dick's guilt issues, filtered through a religious lens. It is **not** meant to condone or romanticise the sort of relationship depicted here. If you or anyone you know is in contact with a teacher, mentor, or community leader whose behaviour matches Roman's in any way, please protect yourself and get help immediately (resources in End Notes).
> 
> Songs listened to while writing this: ["Babylon"](https://youtu.be/RXDOcZLmrKU?t=39) by SZA, and ["Holy"](https://youtu.be/hdYiYjuf0ko?t=104) by Zolita. The fic title is taken from the Lana Del Rey song, "Religion".

The pool of blood slid across the linoleum, staining the soles of his shoes and darkening the hem of his black tunic. Dick wiped the knife off before sliding it back into its sheath beneath his habit. The handkerchief he could burn, his clothes he could wash, but the body at his feet would take a bit more work. 

It was the last day of his pilgrimage. This - following the soup kitchen cook to his apartment and slicing his trachea in one clean cut - was not part of the plan. But he had seen the man lead two young girls around the back of the dining hall, and all his trained instincts came crawling back instantly. 

So much for leaving Gotham and exploring his options.

He had enjoyed his time here. The local monastery he boarded with had been lovely, the sisters taking him in like one of their own. Two weeks turned into three months, and he knew with certainty that this would be his last stop. He'd even entertained the idea of staying.

But he was not made to live among this church and its flock. The beliefs he grew up on were vastly different to the locals', and he was only a product of his teachings. He'd known this from the start. How foolish, then, to hope for otherwise. As if he was entitled to the luxury of asking for a different life. As if it was his God-given right to renege on the very vows he took to become the man he is today.

How selfish. How greedy. How _ungrateful_.

He- he needed to go back. If he caught the next plane, he might make it back by sunset. Whether they would still have a place for him, he didn't know, but he needed to talk to him.

He crossed himself, muttered a quick prayer for the dead man underneath his breath, and got to work. 

*

Roman was teetering on the edge of sleep when he heard the unmistakable thud of the cathedral's front doors swinging shut. He glanced at his watch on the bedside table. 9:36 pm. The doors should be locked at this hour. 

There was only one other person who had keys to the place.

He grabbed the cassock he'd tossed onto the floor earlier in his haste. He shrugged it on as he got up, doing up a few buttons with lackadaisical fingers. On the bed, Jason stirred a little, curling into the empty space he left behind. 

Roman chuckled. That boy could sleep through anything when he was all tired out like this.

When he looked decent enough, he left the room and stepped out of the living quarters. Immediately, he noticed the faint flickering glow against the walls. Someone had relighted the candles.

He spotted the young man halfway down the pews. There, bathed in candlelight, sat Dick Grayson before their statue of Our Lady of Sorrows. Curiously, he was dressed in a button-down and a pair of slacks, his habit nowhere to be seen. He was looking up at the crying face of Virgin Mary silently with a level of concentration that Roman knew he only fell into when he was praying.

That was how he found him 12 years ago. Here, at this spot, ruminating about his dead mother. So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't notice Roman until the priest had walked right up to him. 

Tonight was much the same. Roman watched the line of Dick's shoulder tense up when he finally noticed the echoing footsteps behind him.

"Evening, Sister." Roman nodded when Dick turned to face him.

Dick's solemn face turned sheepish. "Father Sionis. Sorry to bother you at this hour."

Roman waved it off with a flick of his hand. "This is your church as well, Sister."

Dick looked away, but not before Roman caught the minute furrow in his brows and the conflict in his eyes. _Interesting._

"We haven't dusted your room in a while," Roman continued, "but I think-"

"I- I'd like to use the confessional first, if I may."

So it was going to be like that, then.

When Dick was still studying under Roman's tutelage, he never missed a confessional after every assignment. The ritualistic propriety of it anchored him when he felt lost, gave him the rigor he needed to find his way back to God through Roman's guiding hand. But he had gradually drifted away from that habit, perhaps finding other ways beyond these walls to find forgiveness for himself. Then he had gone on his year of pilgrimage, drifting even farther away from the space Roman had carved out for him in this church.

The fact that he was asking for this now... Something must have happened to the young nun on the road.

Roman had a pretty good guess as to what that was.

"Of course, Sister," he replied instead, and led them over to the wooden booth. 

The latch clicked shut, the panel slid into place, and Dick began. 

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

Dick paused, letting the well-worn words centre his focus and bring his jumbled thoughts into a semblance of order.

"It has been 14 days since my last confession. It's been even longer, the one before that. I... I did not feel as though it was appropriate for me to use the confessional at the monastery I was staying at. Though I know that's no excuse, and for that I can only ask for forgiveness - if God is still willing to listen."

"You know that the Lord will always be here for His children, Richard, as long as you keep your heart open in honesty and sincerity."

"That's- that's exactly what I am struggling with. I thought my heart was in the right place, but I don't know anymore. So much has happened on the road, Father, and I fear it had not been for the right reasons. They say pilgrimage is supposed to help you understand yourself and bring you closer to God, but I'm no clearer about my calling in life than I was before.

"I killed a man, today. Without permission from your church. I didn't do it in self-defense; I saw him about to commit a crime, and I simply... acted. It's bad enough that I broke one of our first tenets - I let my anger get the better of me and acted according to my own judgement, and not as an agent of the Lord. But, Father, for a split second, I even _enjoyed_ hurting that man. I took pleasure in knowing that he wouldn't live to harm another girl anymore. It was like I had learnt _nothing_ since my first night with you."

"Haven't you?" Roman interjected with a clinical tone Dick couldn't quite parse. Was he already disappointed? Or was he simply encouraging Dick to elaborate more?

"I was the one who recommended you to the ministry and signed off on your position," Roman continued. "I saw to it that you were ready."

"And I was," Dick rushed to add. "I haven't made that particular mistake in a long time. I knew better - was better, before I went on this pilgrimage."

Roman hummed, an inquisitive noise that urged Dick to go on. And though the partition blocked Dick from Roman's piercing gaze, Dick still closed his eyes as he summoned the strength to continue. 

"It didn't happen overnight, Father. The first six months, I stuck to visiting the places you recommended. I prayed every night to the exact methods I have always practiced, as you have taught me. But the more churches I visited, the more people I encountered, all these communities that were so different from us in the ways they practiced their faith... I started... _doubting_ my mission."

Dick paused, straining his ears for any reaction from Roman. That was the most difficult thing for him to admit out loud so far. But his mentor kept uncharacteristically quiet, commanding with his silence that Dick finish his tale and lay bare all his sins.

Father Sionis always did know the value of humility. It was one of the virtues he'd instilled in Dick from a young age.

Dick swallowed against the ugly shame unfurling in his chest, and pushed on.

"I passed by a carnival, one day. I didn't go in; I knew that was where temptation would find me. But the smell of it, and the sounds, and the sight... Those followed me long after I left the town. I started thinking about my parents again, what my mother - God rest her soul - would think of me. Whether this was the life they'd have wanted me to lead, if this was the path they'd be proud of me for. Because I was good, on the stage. I was really good at bringing joy to people, travelling all over America. I'd even started to think if that wasn't something I should pursue instead. 

"Then I realised how ungrateful I was, to even _think_ that I should turn my back on everything you've taught me! All these years you've guided me, gifted me with the best training I could have hoped for, to serve the Lord as He intended - and there I was, eyes wandering as soon as I left this city. I've failed you, Father, and I don't know how to ask for forgiveness - if I should even ask for forgiveness - from either you or the Lord-"

"Oh, Richard." 

Dick inhaled sharply. There it was, the pity that promised the acceptance he had been waiting for. Instantly, the shame in his chest bloomed, guilt suffocating his airways. But this was what he came here for, wasn't it? To be brought to heel, so he could repent and free himself of the weight of his sins. And once Father Sionis started speaking, he would tell him exactly what needed to be done to atone. Yes, all Dick had to do now was listen carefully. He looked to the partition, waiting for Roman's next words.

"That was the point of this exercise, to test your devotion to my mission," Roman sighed. "I suppose we could've saved you a lot of misery if I'd explained it to you beforehand, hm?"

"The... point?" Dick breathed. 

"I endorsed your decision to go on that pilgrimage, my child, because I knew you needed a little perspective to know that this was exactly the path you belonged on. And you realise that now, don't you?"

"Yes..." Dick whispered, half in hope and half in disbelief, like he couldn't quite believe that Roman would want him back. Roman sighed. Always so determined to punish himself, that boy. 

"Richard, do you remember the parable of the Prodigal Son?"

"Yes."

"Good. Repeat it to me."

"A man had two sons. The younger asked for his share of the inheritance, so he could travel the world and live out his days without a thought for his father." Here, Dick swallowed, guilt creeping into his voice once more. "He lived frivolously, 'til he wasted all his money and became destitute. Then he came to his senses, and upon his return, he said to his father, _I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son._ "

"And what did the father say?" 

"The father called for a feast to celebrate the son's return. He said, _For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found._ The father had welcomed him back with open arms."

"He welcomed him back with open arms," Roman confirmed. "Richard, do you know what this means?"

Dick stuttered on a nervous chuckle. "God doesn't love us any less even when we lose our way. He- He loves the sinners so that we may find our way back to Him."

Roman's lips curled up. "That's right, Richard. God loves his children equally, even the sinners." He paused for a moment, let that sink in for the younger man. "Do you understand now? You did not fail, Richard. You came back." _To me._

"I- Yes, Father, I- thank you-" Dick stumbled, voice thick with emotion. Roman imagined he probably had both hands gripping the fabric of his pants, head ducked and willing himself not to cry the way he did sometimes after a session. What he wanted most in these moments was someone to hold him while he pieced himself back together - Dick had admitted as much to Roman once - but he remained silent now.

"Not at all, Richard," Roman said. The boy would come to him, eventually. "Now, it's getting late. If that's all, I'll have Jason fetch your room keys. Seven Hail Mary's before bed, and think about everything we've just discussed. Tomorrow we'll do a proper debriefing."

"I... Okay." For a moment, Dick sounded like he had more to say. Instead, Roman heard a muffled sniffle, one that Dick likely tried to disguise with a hand over his mouth. Silly boy. 

"Thank you again, Father," Dick said, after a beat. 

"All in a day's work, my child." Roman unlatched the door and stepped out of the booth. He nodded at Dick as the younger man ambled out of the booth after him. "Goodnight now, Richard."

As he set off for the living quarters, Dick called out. "Wait!"

Roman turned around, inclining his head.

"Will you stay?" The candlelight chased shadows away from Dick's face, and for one glorious moment, Roman could see the depth of the desperation shining in Dick's blue eyes. 

"Guide me through my prayers. Please."

Roman smiled.

*

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the- the Lord-" Dick broke off in a long exhale. He was doing his best to keep it together, but even without his hiccuping breaths, the sweat shining on his reddened face spoke of his current exertion.

"Almost there now, Richard. Just the last one. Remember what we talked about."

"Yes, Father," Dick panted, glancing up at where Roman sat, on the bed.

They had retired to Dick's room almost half an hour ago. Dick had taken a quick, utilitarian shower, then immediately got down onto his knees, kneeling on the prayer pillow before his bed. The motions were second nature to him, and the hardness of the cold floor tiles beneath his bare shins provided a familiar, grounding sensation. Roman had already changed back into his bed clothes, waiting expectantly with a jar of oil and the glass rosary beads he gifted Dick years ago. This, too, was familiar as breathing to Dick. There were no further instructions, no words wasted as Dick picked up the items and readied himself for the joint prayer. 

Dick passed his thumb and forefinger over each bead as he uttered the seven prayers. He was down to the last one now, the glass bead oil-slick and nudging against his fluttering hole. The ones that he'd already taken jostled against his insides, the feeling almost overwhelming after so many months of going without this ritual. His cock had responded midway, stiffening in interest in the proceedings, and the combined sensations threatened to shatter his concentration, sent him ricocheting from contrition to pleasure to shame. But this struggle, this pain between his bodily pleasures and his connection to God, it was what he needed. It was the truest way Roman would grant him absolution.

"-the Lord is with thee," Dick continued, stuttering ever so slightly, "Blessed art thou - amongst women, and blessed - blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

He gasped as the bead slipped inside, his hole clenching around it, and grounded himself in the feeling of its shape, size and smoothness to centre his focus once more. He ignored the wetness dripping down his cock onto his thighs and reached for the presence of the Holy Spirit, and when he looked up, he saw forgiveness and acceptance in Roman's face, washing away with it a modicum of the guilt and wrongness weighing down his shoulders. He wanted the rest of it lifted too, wanted to feel like the past year never happened, like he never left Roman's side at all.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners," Dick pleaded as he stared into Roman's eyes. "Now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

"Amen," Roman murmured, and rested a benevolent hand on top of Dick's still-damp curls. The relief that followed unleashed a well of emotions in Dick. His breath hitched, and he blinked away the tears blurring the sight of the man before him.

"Very good, Richard. You can put away the rosary now."

"Thank you, Father," Dick swallowed around his syllables, and with trembling hands, began pulling the chain of beads out from behind him. With the prayers all finished, he let go of his concentration and came swiftly undone, helpless against the way all seven beads pressed against the most sensitive places inside him, one after another. The release consumed him, drawing a long, involuntary moan out of him as he spilled onto his lap and the tiled floor beneath him.

The feeling of Roman's hand smoothing down his hair and settling on the back of his neck brought him back to the ground. He opened his eyes, and saw that Roman had already pulled himself out, stroking his cock with his other hand almost leisurely. He must have done it while Dick was still catching his breath. 

"Finish it off now, Richard. You know what to do."

"Yes, Father," Dick said, and bent forward to take Roman into his mouth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Helplines, RCCs, and other resources for survivors: 
> 
> [RAINN (USA)](https://centers.rainn.org/)  
> [CASAC (Canada)](https://casac.ca/anti-violence-centres/)  
> [1in6, national helpline & counselling support for men (USA)](https://1in6.org/)  
> Subreddit threads with resources for men (USA, UK): [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/MenGetRapedToo/comments/6j0vih/obtaining_professional_help_a_guide_for_men/) and [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/MenGetRapedToo/comments/bfinj1/the_good_rape_crisis_center_guide/)  
> [International directory of agencies / helplines](https://www.hotpeachpages.net/a/countries.html)  
> 


End file.
